Love Me For Who I Am
by Kasumi Lovegood
Summary: Thanks to England's spells, America becomes the person England always wanted him to be. England realizes that he prefers the old America and looks for a way to turn him back. But things aren't meant to be easy... USxUK, Romance/Humor/Angst
1. Chapter 1

Written for the Secret Santa Exchange in the usxuk community in LJ. Special thanks to haro [at] LJ for her wonderful betaing!

Guests on this chapter: Finland, Sweden, Sealand. Hints of SuFin.

* * *

"Okay, let's check everything again," said England while adjusting America's tie for the umpteenth time. "Regarding food...?"

"...I have to eat one piece at a time. I can't pick at food with my fingers, except for actual finger food. And I can't talk while my mouth's full," America replied, voice bored. He saw England was frowning at him, as if waiting to hear something more.

"What about the noises?" England raised an eyebrow.

America sighed. "I can't make funny noises while eating, and I can't slurp my drink. Was that it?"

England gave a nod of approval, looking at last satisfied with the tie. "Quite correct. Now, about addressing people...?"

"I have to greet them with a nod or a bow and not with a handshake. I have to call people by 'sir' or 'ma'am', not 'dude,' 'pal,' 'buddy,' or 'guy,'" America drawled, observing England as he tried to fix the buttons of his shirt and vest. "Really, England...what's with all the formality? Why can't I greet them as I do everyone in my country? I'm sure even your people eventually get bored with so much stodginess..."

England was now busy getting rid of the creases. "America, you're in my country and you must behave as my country demands it. I've learned to deal with you, as obnoxious as you are, but that doesn't mean my people will be accepting of it." England noticed America looking away, already distracted. "Are you listening, you git?"

"Yeah, yeah..." America murmured while scratching his ear. "Honestly, I don't understand why you make such a fuss out of this. This isn't the first time I have met your Royal Family, you know!"

"Well, that's true, but..." England trailed off, now looking uncomfortable. "It's the first time you've met them after, you know..."

"After we became a couple? Come on, England, everything will be fine! You're making it sound like you're going to present me to your parents or something!" He chuckled, but stopped after noticing England's blush. "O-Oh wow, don't tell me you're really taking it in that way…"

"N-No, of course not! But... dear God, America. I just want you to give a good impression to them. Is that wrong?" He looked up with hopeful eyes.

"No, I guess it's not. Relax, England! Everything will be fine." America grinned, leaning forward to give England a small peck on his lips. "I'm going to make you feel proud, you'll see!"

To feel proud was too much to ask for, England thought. He gave America a worried look. "I just hope you won't embarrass me, that's all…"

America smiled earnestly. "Don't worry. I promise this will be an unforgettable night!"

"We'll see…" England stated with a sigh.

* * *

After presenting America as 'Alfred F. Jones, a high emissary of the United States' government,' England started looking out for the Queen. Of course, the Queen herself and some selected members of the Royal Family would know about England and America's secret, them being embodiments of their respective nations. But that was confidential information that not everybody needed to know, much less at a massive party.

Upon not having any success, England figured he would have to wait until the dinner was over. He was about to take America into the dinner room, when he noticed that he was shivering slightly.

"Is everything alright, America?" England said sounding worried.

America just chucked nervously, "Why…why would you ask that?"

England let out a sigh and took America to an empty room.

"Okay, I know something's wrong with you. Would you mind telling me what?"

"It's just…," America's voice dropped. "It's just that I'm unsure of this. Do you think everything will be all right?"

England smiled. It was so proper of America, to feel insecure over little things. Cupping his face and looking into his eyes, England reassured him, "I'm sure you'll do well. Just remember everything we talked about and everything will be fine. I promise." And he sealed his words with a soft kiss to America's lips.

"E-England…" America sobbed, and suddenly England found himself being crushed by America's arms. "Will…will you still love me even if things turn out badly?"

England swallowed hard. He looked so _pitiful_. For things to turn out badly… that was the last thing he wanted, for certain. But he couldn't leave America like that; he needed to offer some soothing words. "Of course I will, my silly boy. Now, are you ready? There's a nice dinner waiting for us out there. And I won't leave this room without you, you know."

America nodded happily and they went back into the dining room.

The dinner wasn't bad at all. England shot a glance to America, and noticed how the younger nation was patiently trying to cut his roast beef, frowning as he did so. England felt relieved to see that America was using the proper knife and fork, and he couldn't help but chuckle when America's frown intensified.

To be honest, England felt a little bad for America; it felt as if he could almost read America's thoughts about wanting a bun and eating the beef like a burger. It was more comfortable for him, England couldn't deny it. Nevertheless, it was moving to see America trying so hard, and for _his_ sake. He felt his heart melting a bit at this.

What England had failed to see, was that out of nervousness, America had drunk a little more than a healthy dose of wine. Not enough to get him completely drunk, but enough to make him feel more relaxed and confident. Perhaps _too _relaxed.

Soon, the dinner was over, and the guests moved to the nearest room. There was a band already playing music, and this helped quicken up a lively amount of chatter.

It was time already. With his heart already racing, England started looking for America, who had gotten lost in the crowd. However, he had to give up the search when the Lord Chamberlain suddenly greeted him and requested his presence. Typical from a Royal Party, England thought, letting out a sigh.

One hour later, England finally managed to get out of a fascinating discussion about cricket and polo. Sure, England was very knowledgeable about those sports but, the truth be told, he considered football a far more exciting and interesting sport.

'Soccer,' America would say. That silly boy, always twisting his precious language. Oh right; he had to look for him.

It wasn't hard. England suddenly heard America loudly laughing that obnoxious laugh of his. (Now, England secretly thought America's laugh was something very endearing and adorable, not that he would ever admit it.) That said, England finally found America.

There was a large crowd around him. Not that England was particularly surprised, since America was a cheerful guy able to gather attention easily. But on second glance, England noticed the crowd was composed mostly of Dukes, Lords, and almost every important person in the Royal Family.

Including, to England's despair, the Queen herself.

Not only that. The git had actually put his arm around the Queen! Had he gone insane?!  
It was to be expected, England thought angrily. He just had to turn away, and the bloody idiot would forget there were rules to follow. He was about to smack some sense into the American, when he managed to hear part of what he was discussing in such a lively manner.

"Trust me guys, I couldn't believe it either! Who would have thought that France had actually proposed to England? It's ridiculous! Oh, and speaking of England. I'm sure all of you are used to see him so stiff and stodgy…but I bet none of you have seen him completely drunk! I have. Oh yes, I have. I still remember…once he got so drunk that after complaining on how much of an ungrateful brat I was, he ended up whining like a baby! Man, it was hilarious!" America said, still laughing.

England could feel himself growing red to his ears. It was one thing for America to be poorly mannered and forgetful of every formality, and another VERY different thing for the idiot to start discussion such embarrassing things about him! In fact, he felt like crying out of anger, but he couldn't do that in front of so many people. So instead, he roughly grabbed America by his arm to take him away from the palace. And he loudly groaned when America said his final words.

"Is the party over already? Man, this was totally a blast! I hope to see all of you very soon, guys. I have so many things to tell you!"

Unfortunately, neither of them saw the response: many guests waving back to America, and the Queen chucking, looking very amused with the situation.

* * *

"I can't believe what you just did. Are you insane?"

"Calm down, old man. What did I do?! It's not like I did something embarrassing!"

"You sodding idiot. So you weren't satisfied with just making yourself looking like a fool, you had to make me look like one as well, right?!"

"W-What's wrong with entertaining people with some innocent anecdotes? Poor guys, some of them really seemed like they were getting sleepy at such a snobbish party…"

"… Just shut up. Would you?"

After getting out of the party, America and England had been quarreling on their way back to England's home, or rather; America had to bear England's long ranting. And it wasn't pleasant; in moments, he seemed out of himself, deeply flushed not because of embarrassment, but due to pure anger. America, on the other hand, had managed to patiently listen to England's whole outburst. But after listening for two hours, England was starting to get on his nerves.

They didn't talk a lot after getting home. England would brew some tea, while America made himself something to eat. More for himself than for England, he mumbled about how hungry he was, since he has had to be very measured with eating during the party. However, England dismissed America's comment and didn't say a thing.

After finishing their respective meals, both of them headed to the bedroom. But when England got inside, he quickly tried to close the door, being stopped by America's foot.

"Wait a moment. Yeah, you can be angry and all of that, but…are you really going to keep me from sleeping in my own bed?!"

England frowned upon hearing this. "In case you hit your head or something, and I think it must be so, I'll kindly remind you this is _my_ house, and you're sleeping in _my _bed. And since things are as they are, I have the right to keep you out of my bedroom if I feel like it," he spat venomously.

America raised an eyebrow. "So…what do you want, for me to sleep here in the hallway?"

He was silenced after being hit right into the face with a big sleeping bag.

"There's the couch, clever boy. And don't even think on giving me your usual pouts or puppy eyes, I'm not changing my decision. I hope you can take this time to think on what you did. Good night." And in saying this, England kicked America's calf to get his foot out of the room. America hissed, and in seconds, the door was closed and locked.

America sure had enough strength to take down the door, but he didn't feel like getting England even angrier. And anyways, he still didn't quite get why England was so mad. So he gave a sigh, and resigned, he took the sleeping bag and went to the living room.

It didn't take a long time for America to fall asleep. But for England, it was hard to even close his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking on the party, how much it meant for him and how dramatically it had been ruined by America's…well, American attitude.

He loved America, he was sure of that. But he got on his nerves so often, and he didn't feel he was prepared to resist feeling ashamed. He was, after all, a nation, and his duties as a nation had to be put over his human feelings. He had an image to hold and respect for his people; of course he had to take care of them.

But he couldn't change America, could he?

His eyes went wide with realization. Of course he could! He had the power of magic, and he had practiced it for many centuries. It was an important legacy of the past of his people, and he had made sure to preserve such valuable knowledge.

Feeling revitalized, he stood up, and as silently as he could, he opened the door and went to the attic looking for his instruments: his magic wand and his spell book. Now, there was one thing he still needed to do, call on his abilities.

Raising his hand, the star-shaped wand glowed, covering the place with light and fog. Once everything was clear again, England looked at himself through an old mirror.  
Except that it wasn't really England anymore. He was wearing nothing but a small white toga, his head was crowned with a halo, and his back now featured a couple of white, delicate, and slightly shining wings.

He had turned into Britannia Angel, England's magical form.

Feeling ready, he went down to the living room. There, America was sleeping soundly and snoring quite loudly. England felt grateful for a moment, since America's snores would disguise any sound. Approaching the couch, his eyes fell for a moment upon America's face. America always showed, in his sleep, a different side of him, a peaceful and innocent face that gave England a warm feeling.

He stopped for a moment, to consider all the implications of what he was going to do. Was it right, to try to change a person? To use magic for such selfish reasons? Shouldn't he, as America's lover (and England would blush upon that thought), embrace every trait of America, both the good and the bad?

_Embrace. _An unpleasant image came to his mind, of the younger nation being all friendly with the royal family and embracing the Queen, of all things! And, to make it worse…

_"…He ended up whining like a baby! Man, it was hilarious!"_

That was enough. The bloody git was SO going to receive a gift from Britannia Angel.

While gathering all his magic power on the tip of his wand, England noticed the fairies. He chose to dismiss their worried looks, convinced that he was doing the right thing, and confident because he knew the fairies didn't had enough power to break his spell.

Soon, the whole living room was wrapped in a warm light, although not even a single sound could be heard apart from America's snoring. In a quiet whisper, England started to recite the lines of the spell while concentrating on all the things he hoped for America to become, only to then finish with a flick of his wrist.

Nothing spectacular happened, though. The warm light had faded, but besides that, everything remained the same. America was still sleeping soundly, the moonlight could still be seen slightly through the curtains, and England was still in the middle of the living room, dressed in a toga and holding his wand.

He scratched his head and decided to go back to his bedroom before he would start feeling like a fool. The results of his spell would be visible by morning, or that's what he dared to hope.

* * *

The next morning, despite his lack of sleep, England woke up at his usual hour. He went down expecting to find America still snoring over the couch, but his surprise was enormous upon seeing his couch perfectly in order as if nobody had slept there.

There were noises in the kitchen, along with the aroma of toasted bread and brewed tea. Earl Grey, he could tell. He entered the kitchen, only to find America already completely dressed, and reading a newspaper. The younger nation smiled, not in the beaming way England was accustomed to, but he was smiling nevertheless.

"Good morning, England! May I serve you breakfast?" Moving the closest chair, he gestured for England to sit down. Still slightly in shock, England took the offer.

"Uh…America, are you feeling alright?" England asked uncertainly, since he still wasn't sure if America's weird attitude had been caused by his spell, or it was just a prank of his.

"Oh, absolutely. I slept wonderfully, and I've had a lot of time to think on things as well." He started pouring the water, and England absently noticed America was serving tea to himself. "I must apologize, you were right. My attitude last night wasn't proper and I'm deeply ashamed of that. But I assure you, it won't happen again. So…would you forgive me?"

England didn't catch anything of what America had said; instead, he cautiously pointed at America's cup. "Since…since when do you drink tea?"

"Hmm? I felt like drinking tea today. Wonderful thing, this drink. It has a splendid bitter taste, and it wakes me up far better than coffee. This is my second cup today, in fact." He pointed at a used cup on the sink. "I hope you won't mind me using your tea bags?"

"N-Not at all. Uh…you were telling me something before?" England stammered.

"Right! I was telling you…would you forgive me for my rude behavior yesterday?"

America asked, giving a look that was almost akin to his puppy look. On a second glance, though, England noticed that America looked quite serious.

"O-Oh, that. You don't need to worry, I, uh…I already forgave you. But I appreciate the sentiment." England gave a shy smile, and America replied in the same way. England wasn't quite sure as to why, but he felt relieved at seeing America smiling again, even if it was just a little.

During the remaining breakfast time, they talked cheerfully about the news of the day. America commented on he read in the newspaper, and England gladly gave his two cents about the different topics. Time flew as they talked, and soon, it was time for America to set out. His boss would have a meeting with England's Prime Minister he had asked for America to be present.  
England noticed, not without surprise, that it was still early and America had plenty of time to arrive to the appointment. However, he didn't say a word; he was glad that America had given himself more than enough time, instead of rushing everything and hurrying out the door at the last minute.

Once America was gone, England let himself fall over the couch, a hand on his forehead. The morning's shock was just starting to sink in, so he took some time to check again everything that had just happened. America waking up early. Drinking tea. Preparing breakfast. Being well-mannered. Speaking properly. Reading the whole newspaper. Getting everything done so he could arrive _earlier_ than the agreed upon time. Apologizing for last night!

England suddenly felt the need to pinch his cheek, just to make sure it wasn't a dream. And he did it; but he regretted immediately because, damn, it really hurt. So it seemed that Britannia Angel's spell had worked, and way better than he had ever expected! The new America was everything he had ever wished and much more. But, how long would it last? And was it really that perfect?

England challenged himself to figure it out. Since he had been given the day off, he cheerfully stood up, feeling suddenly excited with the idea of preparing a monumental dinner. That would be quite a trial, but he was eager to see the reaction from the new America. So England got ready to spend the day shopping, checking recipe books, and probably, fighting with the oven.

It wasn't until several hours later, that England realized that America hadn't left with his typical bear hug and a tender kiss on his lips, but with a rather simple kiss on his cheek instead. However, England didn't give any importance to that fact.

For now.

* * *

The dinner ended up being perfect. Not only America did compliment every dish, but he also ate them quite happily; and always taking care to eat measured bites and chew slowly. In fact, America turned out to be so flattering that England ended up blushing at several moments.

America also seemed quite enthusiastic in telling England every detail of his meeting. And England listened gladly; he wasn't used to talking with America of such topics, but it turned out to be so pleasant that England thought he wouldn't mind getting used to these new conversations at all.

Over the next days, England had fun finding out what the new America had to show. For example, they had been able to watch British TV with America seeming truly interested. America also asked, out of the blue to have every one of his handkerchiefs embroidered by England. Apparently, America was now able to see England's fairies. And, even more surprising, America had become sort of addicted to England's scones.

There were some not-so-amazing traits on the new America, though. Like America suddenly being unable to open a pickle jar (something America used to boast as one of his greatest talents), or America screwing up every electronic device in England's house. However, England was still so delighted with the 'positive' changes in America, that he could well forgive these new and little 'flaws'.

One day, England received a notice that Sealand was going to visit him. It was a custom already, for Finland and Sweden to come to England's house bringing Sealand with them. They considered it important for Sealand to keep contact with his older brother, and while England wasn't exactly happy to receive him in his house, he couldn't say no to Finland and Sweden.

Besides, Sealand wouldn't always tease England; if America happened to be at England's house, Sealand would likely end up asking America to play with him. And of course, America wouldn't refuse the offer. Now, it was arguable if America taking care of Sealand was actually a good thing; normally, the biggest damages to England's house had been caused by their playing.

Finland and Sweden were on England's doorstep at the agreed hour. As expected, Sealand didn't say anything but a brief 'Hi, jerk England!' and instead, he ran looking for America.

Finland smiled, and chuckling, he greeted England. "Pleased to see you. I have to apologize for Sealand's attitude…he's a child, you know. I'm sure he's, uh, quite happy to see you! It's just that he doesn't like to show it…"

England snorted. "It's all right. He likes to play with America. Sodding gits…I swear when I see them together, it's hard to distinguish who's the elder one," he replied, trying to appear disgusted. But he couldn't hide the small smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Right. America…" Finland said with a worried voice. "I've heard he has changed a lot, recently. There are lots of rumors around…about him being quite interested in international affairs, polite, praising your food…"

England raised an eyebrow. "What's so strange about him praising my food?"

"N-Nothing! That's all right, don't take me wrong!" Finland now looked nervous. "What I was trying to say is…well…did something happened between you and America? It's not like him to act in that way…"

England couldn't hide the surprise on his face. He wasn't expecting for someone to actually question him about America's sudden change. It had been for the better after all, right?

"I wouldn't say something happened. Let's just say that I wanted for him to change some traits…I guess he eventually listened to my words?"

"Please, England. It's not like America has ever listened to your complaining. This is something else. I take it you can tell us about it?" Finland inquired with a serious look.

England gulped. "W-What's so wrong about America's attitude? He has changed for good, right?"

He looked around, just to find Sweden's cold glare. "You h'ven't answ'red 'et mah wife's q'estion"

Feeling himself cornered, England gave up. He realized they wouldn't leave him alone until getting the true answer.

"Fine, it was me. I, uh…I used some magic to turn America into what he is now. There, now you're satisfied?" England stammered.

Finland and Sweden didn't say a word. Instead, they looked at each other as if speaking with their eyes. Finally, Finland looked at England. "Are you sure…this is what you want? Are you feeling happy with the new America?"

"Of course I am! Why shouldn't I be? Look, I know you two have never have problems with each other, so I know you won't understand me. But, is it wrong for me to wish for a better America? What's more, don't you complain all the time about how obnoxious he is?"

Sweden just groaned, while Finland was giving him a funny look. Why did it look like pity? "It's not like I never have problems with Su-san, but that's beyond the point, England. I think that…when you love somebody, it's all right to try to correct the flaws, but you must also accept them. Do I make sense?"

"Y-Yeah…" England mumbled, lowering his eyes.

"And also, how are you so sure this is truly what you wanted? What if your fantasy ends up being not as good as what you had imagined?"

England frowned. "Why should it go wrong? I'm quite sure I did the spell perfectly…"

Finland didn't reply. Both he and Sweden now had their eyes fixed on Sealand, who was trying to convince America to play with him. England himself was shocked to see that America was struggling to get rid of the kid, trying to tell him as kindly as he could, that he was a busy adult and that he couldn't be playing with children.

Sealand finally gave up, looking down and making a pout. And while England was used to seeing him pouting and throwing tantrums, he couldn't help but think that Sealand now seemed honestly sad.

Looking at the child's disappointed face, England wondered for the first time if casting a spell on America had indeed been a good idea.

* * *

**Notes: **  
- England's lectures about etiquette were taken from several websites about manners used on Royal Parties on the United Kingdom.  
- The Lord Chamberlain is one of the chief officers of the Royal Household in the United Kingdom.  
- America's embrace to the Queen is a reference to Michelle Obama, who did the same thing during the G-20 summit held in London. It doesn't seem like the Queen really minded, though...


	2. Chapter 2

Special thanks to sillyputtie [at] LJ for betaing this chapter.

Guests on this chapter: Japan, Prussia, mentions of several countries and OC-Hawaii.

* * *

"Konnichiwa, Nihon desu."

"Japan? Are you there? Hey, I can't understand gibberish, you know." a thick German accent said through the phone.

"I'm afraid it isn't gibberish, but my own language, Prussia-san," Japan stated. He stopped for a second. "Is there anything I can help you?"

"Wow, you could tell it was me? You're really clever, Japan! But it was to be expected, my awesome voice surely can be recognized anywh—"

Japan cleared his throat, causing him to stop.

"I think I didn't express myself properly. Is there any issue you would like to discuss with me? You must have called me for a reason." Japan asked with a slight tone of impatience.

"Oh yes, there is! Say, do you know if something happened to the American kiddo?"

"You mean, America-san?"

"Yeah, him! Anyways, I had been planning this Smash Bros Brawl rematch with him for a long time, you know, and the night we were supposed to fight, he didn't appear at all! I guess he must have felt intimidated and scared of facing the awesome me! Did you hear I beat Korea last week? I was told he ended up crying out for his mommy!"

Fortunately, Prussia couldn't see Japan rolling his eyes. "I don't think America's the type of person who would feel intimidated with a challenge. I believe that if he didn't show up, it was just because he forgot, or he wasn't interested at all."

"You can't be serious! That guy is even more of a geek than you! Uh...perhaps I'm exaggerating. Anyways, it's not like him to not to be interested on a game! Unless...hey, Japan. Could it be that jerk England didn't allow America to get into the game? Yeah, that must be it! Always been a wet blanket, that fuzzy eyebrows idiot...I knew this would happen. I knew America would become less awesome being stuck with England. But did he listen to me? Oh no, the brat was so loveblind he didn't bother to listen to the wise advise of this humble serv---"

Again, Japan could be heard clearing his throat. Once he had made sure that Prussia was quiet, he resumed his talk. "Personally, I don't think England's the reason why America didn't show up. Actually, something interesting happened last week, when I managed to play with him."

"Did...did you manage to play with him? So, what happened?" Prussia asked with curiosity.

"Well, he came to my house. I had been wanting to show him this new RPG I released and I wanted his opinion… you know he's quite skilled playing RPGs."

"Don't even remind me! Last time we played Ragnarok Online, he kicked my ass so spectacularly, that France and Spain mocked at me for weeks! Man, what a cheater! I'm sure he only won because---"

"It would be a pleasure for me to hear that story any other time. Now, as I was saying, he played so badly he…he even lose against the tutorial monsters. In fact, it was a miracle he didn't end killing his own partner character."

"F-For real?! What a loser! Is he sick, or what?" Prussia yelled into the phone.

"It doesn't seem like the case, Prussia-san. As I saw it, it's like he suddenly became terrible with games. Or rather, he has become the opposite of what he used to be."

There was silence on the other side of the line. For a moment, Japan thought Prussia finally realized how serious this was. Finally, Prussia spoke. "Does… does that mean I can reclaim my title as 'King of Games'?!"

Japan had to contain the urge of smack his forehead. "If you say so, Prussia-san…"

"Heh! It's about time! With America out of the map, nobody can argue that I'm the best gamer in the world!" Prussia boasted.

"I think you're forgetting me, Prussia-san. Anyways, is that alright with you? To be the best player and not having somebody worthy of being your rival?"

"Of course it's alright! Where's the fun if you can't be the number one? Whatever. Now, if you excuse me, the King must go validate his title. What's next in my agenda? A Halo match?! With...uh, America..."

Japan didn't catch what Prussia mumbled after that, since he had already hung up the phone. Perhaps, he thought, someday he would realize the magnitude of the problem and he would call again. If nothing else, to find a partner to play with.

Japan could now see the problem was way more serious than he had imagined when America had visited his house. He had already done his own little investigation, but since the other nations were starting to notice America's behavior as well, it was time to investigate a little further. Of course, Japan wasn't aware that Finland and Sweden already knew the truth but had chosen to stay silent. For most nations, America's behavior seemed like his typical, eccentric self and nobody had given it much thought outside of a passing comment.

But things had started to change, and weird news was coming up all across the Internet, all related to America, and Japan was determined to find the common thread between all of them.

The first report had come from Russia. Some weeks ago, due to Russia's insistence, a long-waited chess match between Russia and America had taken place. They hadn't played against each other since the Cold War (those matches with Russia against America's super machines didn't count), and Russia had been especially enthusiastic after his boys' epic rematch. Russia had been feeling eager to play some chess, and he was looking for a challenge.

The challenge never came, though. The match must have been one of the shortest ever recorded, and while Russia didn't keep from boasting about his victory, it was clear he wasn't satisfied. Japan let out a shudder; he could imagine Russia unleashing his uneasiness on Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.

Speaking of Estonia, there was news that Estonia's new movie had its premiere; it was a sequel of the equally bad and successful independent movie co-produced with America. Now, Japan knew tons of America's movies were bad from the start, but for some unknown reason, they always did well in the box office.

This wasn't the case. Estonia's new movie did awful in the box office, and Estonia was already threatening to produce his next movie with Spain, or Germany.

That is, after he managed to recover from the loss left by the failed movie.

Over the recent days, Denmark's whining could be heard all over the Internet. Apparently, he was counting on America to make his pedal-energized, hideously big Christmas tree work as part of Copenhagen's climate summit. Apparently, Denmark hadn't considered how difficult it could be to find a volunteer to pedal for hours, let alone several of them. But America had enough strength to cover all the volunteers, without even feeling tired. That was what Denmark thought, at least.

He hadn't counted on America to complain because he bicycle had its suspension set to 'extremely hard' (even though Sealand was pedaling on his side with ease), and already feeling very tired. After a few minutes, America excused himself since he had plenty of things to prepare for the summit.

According to other sources, Denmark managed to make his tree to work, at the expense of his Nordic family. Rumors had it, that after this Finland was considering to ban bicycles as Santa's gifts.

And lastly, there was Hawaii, America's little girl. After several years of waiting, finally, on a sunny December morning, she found the perfect wave. It was time, then, for her famous Surf competition! Surfers from all over the world came for the challenge, but she was waiting for 'the shark', America, to show up.

It had been very difficult to convince America to assist with the event. That had really weirded out Hawaii, since America was normally the most eager follower of this competition. The worst was still yet to come, however; he had barely made it into the water on his surfboard, when a small wave knocked him over. The show started, with America causing an uproar and acting as if he was drowning. Nobody took him seriously, until Hawaii immersed herself to get him out, finally realizing that America was serious. It would probably take some time for Hawaii to understand what happened, but for now, needless to say, she was truly disappointed.

Japan massaged his temples. As much as it bugged him to not have someone to discuss video games with, his main worry was that there were plenty of other things going wrong. And there wasn't any way to contact America: his cell phone was always either busy, or went to voice mail. America wasn't updating any social networks either, even though he used to spend several hours a day on those sites. The only one being updated with certain regularity was America's Twitter account, but it was obvious the one updating was a secretary and not America himself.

Japan let out a breath of air. He was truly worried for his friend, but it was clear he couldn't do anything until he could see the America again. That would happen for sure during the next World Conference. He opted to be patient and wait until then.

But before that, he would make sure to e-mail every country, hoping to hear more about America's weird behavior. He certainly didn't want to miss out on any of the gossip…

* * *

England, on the other hand, wasn't worried in the least bit about the comments going around. He was still living his happy dream, being able to share things with America he had never shared before, and surprisingly, they hadn't quarrel at all in more than a month. The bad part was that America was spending less and less time at England's house. Thanks to his hard work and his increasingly good ideas (and England did feel a little proud of that), America was suddenly in high demand. America's presence was increasingly required on meetings, summits, and that meant more paperwork. England never complained, since he understood, but he couldn't keep himself from missing him sometimes.

This time, it would be different. England thought America was ready to be presented to the Queen again, and after long negotiations, he got an audience with her. The problem now was to convince America to go; the Copenhagen madness was still in the air and it was hard to find America available even for a few minutes. However, since America still felt guilty about what had happened at the Royal Party, he forced himself to leave work aside for an evening to attend.

On the day of the audience, England had a slight sense of déjà vu. He was ready to fix America's tie and vest, only to find them already perfectly in place.

"Okay, let's check everything again, right?" England said while he was unsuccessfully looking for any crease on America's suit.

America just smiled. "There's no need for that, England. I already memorized everything! This time, I'll make it work. I give you my word."

England let out a sigh, finally giving in. His mind told him they were ready, but some part of him insisted there was something still missing.

"You have dirt on your nose," England said, pulling out his handkerchief.

"Really?" America asked, looking surprised. "I was sure I had checked my face several times. Could you clean it for me?"

"Sure..." England replied smiling, and he raised his arm to clean the nonexistent dirt. For some reason, while doing this, his heart finally felt at ease, and the sensation of something being missing finally disappeared. "There, now you're ready."

"Thanks a lot, England! Should we go now? We can't leave Her Majesty waiting, can we?" America asked, holding out his hand to England.

"No, you're right." America took England's hand, and led him out of the house. England's thoughts were in another place, though. Where did this America come from? This guy who in no way resembled the America from the previous party? Although England was sure it was for the best, he had considered America's insecure self one of the most endearing things about him, as much as England loathed admitting it. He looked at this new America, full of overwhelming confidence, and while he thought about old America, an uncomfortable feeling struck England. A feeling that, when put into words, could only be defined as 'sadness'...

As America had planned, they arrived at least half an hour in advance. When the Queen arrived, America was the first to approach her, bowing and kissing her hand in a gentlemanly way. England had to actually contain a giggle, since even for him, this was way too stuffy. He remembered when he could tease, mock and even insult America without having to worry. But that couldn't be possible anymore, since the new America was quite touchy when it came to teasing.

_Almost like me_, England thought bitterly.

The dinner went great, without any inconvenience. After that, America began a long conversation about history, current affairs, and mostly, about the status of the relationship between the United Kingdom and the United States; the typical stuff you'd hear at a meeting. It was obvious America had spent a fair amount of time preparing his speech for this occasion.

England listened truly interested at first, but as time passed, it was getting harder to keep his eyes open and keep from yawning. However, the Queen listened carefully to everything without looking bored for a single second.

It was very late when America decided to stop, distracted by his cell phone. Apparently, he had another appointment early next morning, so after clumsily managing to silence his phone, he apologized profusely asking for permission to leave.

England stayed behind, along with the Queen. He was dying to ask about her impression of America, and judging from the way she was looking intensely at him, he knew he had to say something.

"Your Majesty, I…"

"I know how respectful you are of our traditions, and I really appreciate that. But, I believe you went too far this time," she looked at England with a serious face.

"W-What do you mean?" England asked looking visibly worried. Maybe she would say she didn't like America after all? Or, even worse, that she didn't approve of America as his…well, lover?

However, the Queen's features softened. She didn't looked disgusted, after all.

"There's no need to force manners and etiquette on this young lad. He has the charm of youth; the joy and vitality proper of his land. But he also has some brilliance that's his and only his, along with a pleasant warmth he irradiates wherever he goes. America is a fine and charming young man, my dear England, and it would be a shame to ruin all of that forcing him into some old-fashioned manners. Don't you think so?"

Not believing what he was hearing, England shyly replied, "That may be true, Ma'am. But still, there are protocols to follow! What happened at the last Royal Party…I still feel deeply ashamed for what happened in there. He--" England had to stop, since he noticed the Queen was now chuckling. What the hell?!

"My dear England, I think it was a lovely gesture for him to embrace me in that way. Now, if you're bothered for those funny anecdotes…"

"N-Not at all." His face showed he was lying, since England was now quite flushed. "But, you didn't think it was rude or something?"

"Did I not make myself clear, dear? I had a wonderful time at that party. And, if you were wondering whether I would approve or not your relationship, I don't see why my opinion would matter, especially since you already made your choice." she smiled.

Relief spilled over England after hearing those words. Did that mean the Queen accepted America? Still, the party fiasco was too much for England to let it go so easily. "I'm really grateful for that, Ma'am. But, he still didn't have any right to say such embarrassing things about me…" he grumbled.

"You may complain, dear England, but I know his authenticity is one of those things that made you fall in love with him. I'd suggest you to stop worrying about that. I think it is only a matter of time before people forget everything he said about you. I'm sure you wouldn't be happy at all if America were to change." With that, she said goodbye to England and left the palace.

England stood silent, feeling slightly numb because somewhere, deep inside him, he knew the Queen was telling the truth.

* * *

Another month passed. Until now, gossip had only been isolated comments, but now America was the topic of interest for most nations. Today wasn't the exception: before the beginning of the meeting, a small group of countries were chatting on a solitaire hallway on the Conventions Center. America was nowhere in sight; he was said to be on a secret place, preparing his presentation.

"Ve ~ Do you think this Conference will turn out well, Germany?"

Germany just groaned. "I suppose it will be perfect. With America being the head and everybody agreeing and supporting every single thing he says. He's the one in charge; what could go wrong?"

Italy gave a pout. Germany had been in a very bad mood ever since America had proved to be more reliable and a better leader. Germany always complained that he had to be the one to bring sanity to World Meetings, but Italy suspected he liked to be the one in charge.

"I don't know about you, guys, but I prefer the old America, and I'm sure Germany prefers feels the same. He was…nicer…" Italy said in a whisper.

"It's almost as if he became England's clone!" France groaned.

"I do think America's still a nice guy, but how serious he is worrying. Something really bad must have happened to him." Japan stated.

"He even eats England's scones!!!" France whined.

"I think you're all overreacting. I'm sure this is our friend America's natural reaction, after realizing my undisputed superiority on chess." Russia gave a sinister smile.

"He even drinks England's tea!!!" France moaned.

"I don't think this is related to chess…or England's food. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation to this. Have you considered asking America himself?," China stated in a reprimanding tone.

The nations looked at each other, nobody saying a thing. It was France who broke the silence, suddenly looking excited. "Do you want to hear my theory? I'm sure that closet perv England jinxed America in order to 'change the routine' or something…"

"You'll have to excuse me, France, but…why would it be related to England wanting some…special treatment from America? Can't you think of anything that doesn't imply sex?," Germany arched an eyebrow.

"Why, you ask? Because England's a closet pervert and a horny bastard! I assure you, this must be some new kink of his and---OW! Why do you kick me, China?!"

France turned around to face China, and he saw England walking just beside him.

The nations stood silent, all of them looking at England, as if waiting for him to snarl sooner or later. But that never happened, since England never even look at them. He had a gloomy face, and crossed the hallway without saying a word. What's more, he seemed to have not heard any of the comments about him.

Once England was out of sight, the nations looked at each other, astonished.

"Comrade England doesn't look well, da?"

"I called him a closet perv and he didn't even react!!!" France whined.

England didn't hear either men's increasing babbling. Lost in his own thoughts, he headed to a solitary office where he knew America was hurrying to get his presentation ready on time. How long had it been since the last time he spoke to America? Maybe 15 days?

Taking a deep breath, England turned the knob and entered the office.

He found himself wishing America would at least say something to him.

* * *

Notes:

- _His boys' epic rematch_. Russia is referring to the rematch between Garry Kasparov and Anatoly Karpov, which took place on September 2009. I suppose Russia would be in a chess mode, after that!  
- Denmark's Christmas Tree did exist; it was placed on the on City Hall Square in Copenhagen a week before the Climate Summit. Now, they didn't have any problem to make the real one to work....  
- Hawaii's competition is the Quiksilver In Memory of Eddie Aikau wave surf contest, which is an irregular tournament run only when the ocean reaches a certain height. Last year, it took place on December 8th.


	3. Chapter 3

Guest on this chapter: France.

Thanks to strawberryburst [at] LJ for betaing this chapter!

* * *

Standing inside of the room was America, diligently checking a large pile of papers. He had brought many reports and documents to prepare what was going to be, undoubtedly, a long meeting full of America's speeches.

Since he was with his back turned to the door, he didn't see England coming in. Taking advantage of this, England silently approached America and shyly hugged him from behind, secretly praying for America not to reject him.

His prayers went unheard. As America struggled and stiffened under his embrace, England felt a dull pain inside him.

"E-England! My bad, this isn't a good moment, you know...there's still things to do, this is such an important meeting!" he exclaimed, finally freeing himself from England's embrace. He noticed England's gloomy look. "You don't look good, England...is something wrong?"

England shook his head. "I'm just tired, that's all," he added, giving a sad smile.

America couldn't hide his worried look. Carefully, he motioned for England to take a seat at the table, so America could be next to England. England stood silent, so after a while, America resumed his work.

"England, I'm…I'm sorry I haven't gotten in touch with you lately. These weeks have been busy, you know…health care, environment, and with almost every country asking me for advice and support, I don't have any time for me, or for us…"

England noticed the tone in America's voice. Apologetic, but also very tired. He knew America had been working very hard, but still, he couldn't help but think he should have some privileges compared to other countries. They were a couple, for God's sake! And…

He saw America struggling very hard with a mouse and keyboard. A small netbook, he realized. Not his hideous, hi-tech and expensive red, white, and blue colored notebook he used to carry everywhere with pride. This one was smaller and supposedly easier to use, but apparently it wasn't easy enough for America to use it.

And still, America kept trying. England could understand; some months ago, no one would take America seriously. Always giving commands over less-than-reasonable ideas, no wonder he wasn't very wanted in meetings. But since he was a superpower, everybody forced themselves to tolerate him. Fake smiles, awkward greetings. Perhaps that's why America loved to take part in meetings when England was around; despite the criticism and the bickering, he knew England was, at least, being honest with him.

Things had changed. Everything America would say now was taken seriously and considered important. Though disliked before, now America was wanted everywhere. It made sense for him to keep giving the best out of himself, now that people would really listen to him and appreciate him. Suddenly, England felt really bad for being jealous over something like this.

Carefully, he placed his arm over America's shoulder on a comforting gesture. "You've been working for weeks. It would do well for you to take a small break, you know?"

America now was looking at England, taken aback. "No way! I only have a minutes left, and there's tons of things I still need to check! My boss really expects for this project to be approved, and people expect a lot from me and...and I can't disappoint them, right?"

England smiled, putting his arm back on the table. "I know, I know. You're the hero, right?"

America chuckled, placing his hand over England's. "I'm not a hero; in the end, I'm just a human made of flesh and blood. Sure, I can try, but... it would be preposterous of me to claim myself as the one able to solve every single problem, you know?"

"I...I guess you're right..." England replied in a low voice. He couldn't help but notice how cold America's hand felt. As far as he could remember, even in the worst climate, America's hands had always felt pleasantly warm.

A cell phone alarm started to play; suddenly, America became really nervous. "The meeting! I'm sorry, England, but I really need to finish this. Can we talk after the meeting?" And saying this, he walked England to the door.

But England wasn't ready to let America go. He caught America's face and hopeful, he brought his lips closer to America's. Struggling, America grabbed England's shoulders to pull him away.

"England, we're in a public place," he said in a whisper.

"You've never cared about what people would say."

Exasperated, America gave England a brief kiss on his forehead before finally closing the door.

England stood watching the door for a while, his mind blank. Until the pain was too much to bear, and then, he finally let the despair fall on him.

There was a certain trait of America that had changed as well, imperceptible to everyone except England. Just like a child, America was both extremely clingy and touchy-feely; he needed to demonstrate affection through physical language, and he hoped for others to reply in the same way. He was actually quite generous in giving affection; shaking hands and giving big hugs were part of America's daily routine.

Naturally, England had special treatment. America would occasionally appear out of the blue, asking for a kiss regardless of the surroundings. Sometimes he couldn't control his own strength, so England would end literally breathless with America's embraces. The same with tackle hugs, often ending with England against the floor crushed by America's weight. And England would squirm and yell, and he would never admit that America's warm weight actually felt kind of good.

Privacy would lead America to use other ways to show affection. He would cuddle, he would nuzzle England's hair and neck. He would caress every corner of England's body, and of course, he would kiss England. From fleeting and tender kisses, to passionate and senseless kissing that would make England lose himself in that feeling. Since America wasn't good with words, he had found the perfect way to express himself using physical language, and England had learned to understand this language and to treasure it, always eager to know what America would try to "say" next.

It was true that sometimes this could bring to him inconveniences and some very embarrassing moments. Not that any of this mattered anymore. America now was as stiff as England, perhaps even more. And while this had been a relief in the beginning, soon it became disturbing, because now, when America lacked his affectionate side, England realized how much he needed it. How much he needed the warmth and care his body so stubbornly refused to receive. How much England needed the affection that would make him forget everything for a moment sending him to the stars. In short, he needed his clingy America.

He could see now, how wrong this was. His dearest America had lost his spark of youth and joy, his dreamer and idealistic self, turning him into a serious, tired, workaholic man. He was kind, he was polite, but there was just no warmth on him anymore. England had managed to take everything he had loved about America in order to turn him into the perfect nation he was now.

But perfection didn't matter to England anymore. He just wanted his old, beloved America.

He fought hard to contain a sob, hoping for nobody to see him in this state. Especially…

"_Cher Angleterre_!"

…obnoxious Frenchmen.

England turned, giving a killing glare. "What do you want, France? I'm not in a good mood, I warn you…"

"That character, _mon ami_! Say, it's a love problem, isn't it? You should remember I'm the master of romance. Leave everything to Big Brother France, _mon petit Angleterre_!" France winked.

"I'm not small. And…that's not of your business," England replied in a dark tone.

France's face brightened. "See? I knew I was right! Now, tell everything to Big Brother. Did that mean _Amerique_ treat you badly? Did he speak ill of your food or something…?"

"N-No! He has been very good with me, actually. He's always polite and kind with me, and…" England trailed off.

France now had a questioning face. "Polite and kind? I think I see the problem now. The kid's being too gentle and you're dying to get a good fu—"

"Don't misinterpret things!" England yelled, his face red out of anger and embarrassment. "Just because you're a bloody pervert doesn't mean I'm a horny bastard like you!"

"Tsk, tsk. It seems I touched a delicate issue, didn't I? Wouldn't you want me to make it better? If you're lacking love, I can give you lots of it!" France grinned, waiting for England's reply.

"I don't want your dirty hands over me. I just want..." England trailed off, now looking down, silent and thoughtful.

"You're really stubborn, aren't you? If you could just allow me to make my magic…" France said, now looking visibly worried.

England's eyes went wide. Magic! Surely there should be a way to get the spell undone! It probably wouldn't be easy to find at all. But he was now determined to find a way to get old America back, now matter how long it could take to do it. There was just one problem left. A certain nation that wouldn't leave him alone…

"…if I allow you to help, will you stop with your obscene insinuations? Will you be helpful for real?" England stared at France, looking deadly serious.

France gave a sigh, shrugging. "I guess there's no other choice, isn't it?"

"Excellent. Now, if you're kind enough to follow me…"

"Uh…exactly where are we going, _mon ami_? _Amerique_'s behind that door!"

England looked at France as if the answer was obvious. "To my house, of course. Do you think I'd try to do something without the proper tools?"

"And... what about the meeting?" France arched an eyebrow.

England stood silent for a moment, thinking. "I'll see you after the end of the meeting. And you better be punctual!" he spat. Then, he headed towards the Conference Room.

_England must be really serious about this if he even considered skipping a meeting_, France thought. Still, he was glad to see England was the same as always, but he couldn't contain a shiver after thinking what England had meant by 'tools'. He just hoped he wouldn't regret messing with England…

* * *

"A spell?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. I made this to America, and...may I know what are you laughing at, you dolt?!"

"That-That's really hard to believe, _mon ami_! A spell? You, performing magic? Give me a break!"

"I guess you won't believe it until I show you, right? Wait until we're there and you'll see..." England grumbled.

France had been in England's house before. In a way, it scared him, since it was always so tidy and immaculately clean. Therefore, it was a surprise for him to see this old, dark, dirty and really untidy place England called 'his Sanctuary'. Centuries of history were kept here, but also centuries of dust. When was the last time someone had cleaned that place?

He looked around, seeing some interesting pieces long forgotten. He got a glance of a painting, featuring England in armor. He saw England's pirate hat, along with some objects he identified as navigation instruments. There was a wide variety of England's old uniforms, from the old WWII ones to the well known Red Coats. And, along those lines...

He spotted a small wooden soldier. Smiling to himself, and wondering why in the Earth would England keep a child's toy, he went to grab it, just to be stopped forcefully by England.

"Just what do you think you're doing, sodding twat?!"

"_Pardon_, I was just asking myself why would you keep a toy. Perhaps you like playing with them?" France smirked, looking amused.

England huffed. "That's not mine, you idiot. That soldier belongs...to America..."

France noticed England's change of mood. "I don't quite understand yet. Why would you keep such a relic? I know you're an old man who always lives on the past, but this is too much!"

England didn't react to France's words. Instead, he clutched the little soldier to his chest, and started talking in a small voice. "You could say it would be better for me to forget, but me... I think it's necessary to remember. This helps me to remember why I lost America in first place, so that I won't make the same mistake again. You can see how well that turned out, though..." he stated bitterly.

The air was tense and France was starting to feel uncomfortable and felt the need of lightening the mood. "Whatever. So what are we looking for, your kinky pirate clothes? That would please me, you know!"

"Those are reserved to just one person, and you aren't him," England smirked. "Now, I'd be thankful if you could stop having such obscene thoughts, so you can start helping me for real!"

That's bitchy England for you, France thought. He smiled, feeling satisfied with his work.

Soon, England found what he was looking for: a large pile of books. Some of them looked so old that they seemed to be able to disintegrate just by looking them.

"May I ask what's all of this old junk?".

"For your information, these are magic books. Old junk indeed, but way more useful than a certain old Frenchman I know," he stated.

"Magic, magic. I still don't but any of this shit about magic. And---WHAT?"

France screamed terrified, because with a flick of his sparkling wand, England had turned on an old and heavy lantern. Fortunately, he didn't need to transform into Britannia Angel to perform such a basic spell.

"Excuse me, what were you saying about magic? Now, hold this while I look for the book I need!" England laughed heartily, giving France the lantern. In the meanwhile, England started to check the books one by one.

After what seemed like hours, and several yawns from France, England found what he needed. "Here it is! _Fantastic Spells and How to Counter Them_. I'm sure you won't appreciate the historical value of this book, my friend, but let me tell you this little thing will solve our problem!"

"Your problem, I'd say. And I think this was too easy. Why do I suspect something unexpected will happen that will make everything more difficult?" France asked in a sarcastic voice.

England huffed. "Nonsense! Why should something go wrong with this...book..."

The counter spell section of the book had several pages burnt, including the one England was looking for. France gave England a look of 'I told you', to England's displeasure.

"I see you really take good care of the historical value of that book, _mon ami_!"

"Sod off, wine freak. It wasn't me, this was probably one of the books I barely saved during...Salem's trials," England grumbled. "Bloody Americans..."

"So what now, should we have some fun with your pirate clothes?"

"As if I would! Now, grab that lantern and bring your bloody arse here; there's still things we need to check." England spat.

They headed towards a big shelf full of cauldrons and flasks of different sizes. Most of them had common things like mushrooms, herbs, and minerals. But some of them had a really creepy aspect, like white balls that seemed like eyes, dried spiders, a flask full of some viscous substance that seemed like pus, some weird roots that vaguely had a baby-like form, and France could have sworn he saw a shrunk head somewhere.

"We're not going to use this ugly-looking junk, are we?" France stammered, almost sounding scared.

"This time, we're going to try with potions," England said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He showed France a book. "This is the one, _Potions Through the Times_. Now, do something useful and start reading the recipe, while I look for the ingredients."

As he turned back to start rumbling among the flasks, France gave a wary look to the book in his hands. He arched an eyebrow upon seeing the page. "Uh, don't take this too badly, _Angleterre_, but...when was this book published?"

"Uh? Well, you should know those books aren't published anymore on these days. That one in particular is...from the 1600s, I think." He frowned. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing special, I guess. I wonder where you can find a Dodo egg these days, though!" France smirk.

"What?" England snatched the book from France's hands, to make sure he wasn't making a fool of him or something. But there it was: a Dodo egg really was one of the ingredients for the potion. England groaned; clearly, the book wasn't going to help him this time.

"Oh, sod off." he sighed, closing the book quite loudly. "We'll have to try something less sophisticated. Any idea?"

France scratched is head. "Honestly, I think you're making things way too difficult. Have you thought about smacking his head with a big rock or something?"

"Are you mental? I want to get his old self back, not to leave him stupider than before!" England snapped. "What, did you receive that treatment before? Now, it all makes sense..."

"Relax, _petit Angleterre_. Our friend _Amerique_ is quite thick-headed literally. It shouldn't affect him too much! Not that he would become that different of what he already was, though..."

England gave France such a deadly glare it gave him shivers through his spine. "I'm not going to use your bloody primitive methods. And don't even dare insult America, there's just one person allowed to insult him and it isn't you."

"Sensitive issue, isn't it, _mon ami_?" France inquired with a smirk.

"More than what you think. Now, if you're kind enough to go back home...it's late and I have lots of things to think and to plan, and those plans don't involve you," England replied, putting special emphasis on the last part.

France shrugged. "As you wish. But give me a call if you need some help from Big Brother! And I mean, any kind of help…" he said, almost in a purr.

Luckily, he was fast enough to dodge the heavy book that was thrown directly towards his head.

* * *

England stayed up late looking for any other spell or potion that could help him, with no luck. Not that it mattered if he would get sleep at all. England's mornings were now quite different from what they used to be: to start with, he was getting used already to waking up alone on a cold bed. America would be probably downstairs, preparing the breakfast, or maybe having a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. That is, if he was in England's house at all, as in this occasion.

It wasn't like this before. Usually, England would wake up first, but he wouldn't get up immediately, allowing him to spend time with a quiet America; something hard to get with him awake. Sometimes, America would be snoring quite loudly, making England want to kick him to shut him up. Sometimes, America would be in a peaceful slumber, so England would feel satisfied observing America's chest rising and falling. If he felt confident enough, England would softly brush America's bangs and cheeks, taking care not to awake him. If the air was chilly enough, England would cuddle against his chest, looking for the warmth that America never failed to give. And, sometimes, they would both wake up at the same time, so they would look at the eyes of the other, lovingly and quietly for a moment. That is, until America would come up with some stupid comment about England having eye bags, or England's ruffled hair.

Not that he minded, really; even if he reacted quite grumpily. Because, deep down, it made him feel alive.

Many things had changed since then. Still, England wouldn't get up immediately, even if he was already quite late. Instead, he would take a moment to try to catch a little of America's lingering smell on the bed sheets, hoping to get some strength to endure the new day.

America smelled of sunny countries and chilly mountains. Of forests and deserts, of lakes and green valleys. Of course, he would also smell of hamburgers and coffee, of leather and bubble gum. Most of these odors were still present in America's smell, but England couldn't help but feeling that there was something missing, something intrinsically American that just wasn't there anymore.

By then, the alarm would kindly remind him of how late he was. With a sigh, England would finally get up, trying his best to ignore the dull pain on his chest.

A long day was awaiting him. He planned to visit a good friend, a nation as knowledgeable in magic as he was. England just hoped he wouldn't have to face the obnoxious boyfriend this nation had.

And it was snowing outside. He didn't even want to imagine how freezing the weather would be in those Nordic lands. Yes, this was going to be a long day...

* * *

  
Notes:

- The Dodo was a flightless bird endemic to the Indian Ocean island of Mauritius. It's believed to have been extinct since the mid-to-late 17th century, although some suggest early 18th century as the right date.


	4. Chapter 4

On this chapter: Denmark, Norway, France. Hints of Denmark/Norway.

Many thanks to strawberryburst [at] LJ for betaing!

* * *

Norway's place didn't have as extreme temperatures as his Nordic brothers', but it was still enough to force England to put on his thickest coat. Still, this day seemed to be particularly chilly, so England was constantly cursing the fact of not having brought something else. Like America's bomber jacket, the same one that now lay forgotten in England's bedroom ever since America had chosen to discard it. England remembered having used it himself in older times, and even then he thought there was something in that jacket, as if was perpetually impregnated with America's own warmth. Yeah, that jacket would be really useful now...

...and here he was, trailing off again. Was he even able to think on something without having his thoughts ultimately re-directed towards America? Always longing about old times, when he should concentrate on the task in hand. Which was… oh, right, finding Norway's house.

Norway's house was located in a southern valley, not very far from the coast. It was a nice small town surrounded by forests dressed in white, and a gentle snow made the place look like a Christmas postcard. But the cold air was far from gentle, and England adjusted his coat to protect himself against the chilly breeze as he wondered how America was able to stand such extreme temperatures. Perhaps he shouldn't hang up the phone when America called in winter; it was rather cruel to leave the guy on his own with such a freezing weather...

England almost smashed his forehead when he realized he was thinking about America again. However, he was already in front of Norway's house; he would have to save that for later.

It wasn't of common knowledge, but England and Norway visited each other regularly. Both shared a deep love for folklore and magical beings, so despite not having the most exciting conversations, England really appreciated sharing a moment with the Nordic nation. Even though Norway could really scare him at times, especially when he opened the door before England could even knock.

Like he did now.

"I was wondering when you would show up," an impassive Norway spoke from the doorstep, finding a surprised England, fist raised, ready to knock the door.

"A-As timely as always, huh?" England replied with a slight stammering, forgetting about greetings and manners. But Norway just nodded, and gestured for him to get inside.

"Finland told me about your little problem," Norway mumbled thoughtfully as they walked through the hallway. "You see, I wouldn't attempt to perform a spell without making sure I already have the counterspell. Except if I'm really desperate..."

"That was a big mistake of mine, but... wait a second!" England exclaimed, looking surprised. "Aren't you going to tell me I was wrong for casting that spell?"

Norway just shrugged. "There's no need for me to lecture you. Magic users are responsible for their acts, and no matter what I say, I think you already made up your mind about this being wrong or right. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here..."

"I... I think you're right." England shyly smiled. Norway didn't talk a lot, but he sure knew what he was talking about. England absently thought that perhaps he should learn a thing or two from Norway, like not throwing spells so hastily and without thinking on the consequences. Not that he would be willing to admit that out loud, though.

Norway gestured for him to take a seat as he brought some tea. Again, England was thankful Norway knew him enough to be one of the few considerate nations that would offer him a decent tea. The only problem? Norway often offered them with those (in his humble opinion) distasteful, half-assed, unrefined Danish cookies. And speaking of Denmark, England sure had chosen a bad moment to visit Norway...

"You must do something, Norge!" a whimpering Denmark suddenly appeared in the living room, rushing to shake Norway's arm as England rolled his eyes. "It's...it's terrible indeed! You already saw what happened with my Christmas Tree, but that isn't even the worst! America won't even touch my cookies anymore; instead, all he ever eats are those horrible English scones! And—"

"What's your problem with my scones, you toss—" England tried to reply sounding angry, but Denmark ignored him and continued rambling.

"—and what's worse, he doesn't even buy my furniture anymore!" Denmark finished with a pout.

Norway looked at him impassively. "Denmark, as far as I know, America preferred to buy furniture from Swed—"

"I knew you would understand, Norge!" Denmark gave a whine and he wrapped Norway in a big hug. "Of course, we're going to do this just for America, and not because we want to fix the mess made by some drunk guy!"

"Hey, you..."

Now Denmark was finally looking at England with a cocky grin written on his face. That was good old Denmark for you, England thought. Still, the idea of Denmark lecturing him didn't feel right at all.

"Were you saying something, England?"

"I'd appreciate if you could repeat that to my face, thank you."

"I said that you were most likely totally wasted and goofing around with a magic wand and that ridiculous butler outfit of yours. Am I mistaken?"

"If anyone has ever done such idiotic thing, I think it would have to be you, I'm afraid."

"Oh, yeah? Then prove it, stuffy Brit!"

"My pleasure, you daft Dane."

"That's enough, you two." Norway finally spoke as emotionless as always, but the sound of his voice was telling both of them Norway wasn't willing to keep joking. "If you don't behave, Den, there won't be storytelling tonight. And—"

"But, Norge!"

"No buts. And," Norway was looking again at England, ignoring Denmark's pout, "I think I can do something about your problem. I'll check my spell books, but let me warn you: I haven't used them in a long time."

"Ah...that's OK, I guess." England said with a slight tone of nervousness on his voice (and also a bit of incredulity; how did Norway manage to control Denmark like that, anyways? But then, he remembered he himself used to deal with America). "I'd be really thankful if you could do something."

"No, the pleasure is mine." Norway replied, his usual stoic voice back, doing his best to stand up with Denmark still clinging to his arm. "If you'd be kind enough to follow me."

Norway's attic was by far more tidy than England's, and far less gloomy. As Norway looked through his books and Denmark absently whistled a cheerful song while digging through old boxes, England had been absorbed by a book about Nordic mythology. Mythological beings always fascinated England, and as he read the book he found himself planning adventures. If he managed to get old America back, maybe he would try to convince him to visit the Nordic countries following the track of those fantastic beings. Even though America would probably mock him for believing in such things (as he always did), it was for sure that America would never dismiss an invitation for adventure. And as much as England loathed admitting it, he deeply enjoyed traveling along with the younger nation.

"I have several tricks to undo charms," Norway suddenly said, bringing England out of his daydream. "But spells are stronger and hard to get undone without the proper counterspell. Yours seems like a powerful one, and I can't seem to find a suitable counterspell for it. I mean, they do exist, but the counter effects can be too terrible to even mention them at all."

"There isn't a good counterspell, then?" England muttered, sounding worried. "But... is there a way to reverse some effects, or at least, to lessen them?"

"That might work. "

Norway grabbed a dusty book, while Denmark was starting to give his first yawns. After looking through several pages, Norway finally found one caught his attention.

"Maybe the solution would be getting America to loosen up himself. This one sounds like a good one; the _Unrepressing Spell_. Better known as the _Sit-no-more_," he pointed to the book, "it aims to release your inner urges, being able to turn a perfect gentleman into the most wild and passionate lover you've ever seen. The book says: 'prepare yourself to see your partner turning from a snob into a beast'."

"S-sounds fine, I guess." England started sweating. "But why is it called the _Sit-no-more_?"

Norway looked at England with a weird look, as if the answer was too obvious. "Well, it's called that since... if America ever receives that spell, I can guarantee you'll be unable to sit down at least for a whole week."

England could feel himself blushing furiously to his ears; as much as he wanted America back, he wasn't sure if he was up for paying such a... painful price to get it. What's more, he was impressed to see Norway talking about this so calmly!

Denmark, on the other hand, was now wide awake and looking at Norway full of excitement. "That sounds pretty neat, Norge! Hey, do you think you could use that spell on me? I assure that you'll feel glad to—" He couldn't finish the sentence, since Norway gave him a strong knock on his head.

"I don't think it would work on you, Denmark. You aren't even a gentleman to begin with," Norway replied ignoring Denmark's pouting face. "Now, England, should I cast this spell on America?" He continued, not showing even the slightest sign of joking. In fact, he sounded deadly serious.

England gulped. "I'll... I'll consider it. But first, how about looking for another choice?" He added in a rush.

Norway nodded, and both he and Denmark kept on looking through books of all sizes. However, as the room got darker and the sun started setting, the two tired Nordic nations just shrugged, having carefully checked every single book in the room to no avail.

"I'm sorry to say this, but it seems like I don't have any suitable spell for this case, England," Norway said, sounding somewhat bored. Or at least, slightly more bored than usually. "I could ask Sweden for some books since, clearly, I can't count on Den for that. I seem to recall he lost his book collection in a bet or a drinking night..."

He raised his tone voice while saying this, causing Denmark to giggle sheepishly. England set aside his own thoughts, trying to not to think of someone who used to laugh in the same childish way.

"No, it's fine; there's no need to do that, for now. Anyways, thanks for taking your time to help us. I'll call you if I decide to use this... this spell you found," England replied, blushing unwittingly just at the mere thought.

"It's fine. Call me whenever you want... or whenever you feel prepared to. Good luck, England," Norway added with a nod.

England replied nodding nervously, and saying goodbye to both nations, he left Norway's place.

On his way back home, he thought on his chances. With no spell or potion, he would have to keep asking other nations with magical cultures. Egypt? He might curse him. His brothers? He was sure if he were to ask such a favor from them, he would be paying for it for life. To ask the fairies was a choice, but he wasn't quite ready to have them scolding him; knowing them, they might want to give him a lesson or something. Blimey, maybe he would have to take the risk? That, or to start thinking of other options.

But he knew one thing for sure… he would use Norway's spell only if no other options were available.

* * *

Once he got back home, the first thing he found was the last person he wanted to see in that moment: a certain annoying Frenchman, sitting comfortably on his living room.

"_Angleterre, mon ami_!"

"What are you doing here, frog? I thought I had made myself clear, I won't use your primitive methods—"

"_Angleterre_, you offend me! I've been thinking on this, you know...and since I'm the nation of romance, I've been realizing I was suggesting the wrong methods If you'll allow, I have much more civilized advice that truly reflect my greatness."

"You, giving civilized advice? I have to hear that. Let's see, what kind of bloody foolish thing did you think of this time?"

"It's like this. You must know already even the finest gentlemen hides repressed desires. Especially British ones. But— let me finish!" France hurried to say after seeing England getting ready to throw a cushion direct to his face. "_Merci_. _Alors_, as I was saying, I've already thought on a clever and painless way to wake up our sleeping _Amerique_."

"Is that true?" England's face shone with hope. France had said 'painless', which was way more than Norway could currently offer him.

As for France, he almost felt bad for England. He seemed to be so desperate he was willing to try everything, even taking the advice of his own rival. But France was determined to have a little fun first.

"Oh, I'd be glad to tell you! But first, I need some incentive. _Pourrais-tu m'apporter un verre de vin_?

"...what?"

"Just bring me a glass of wine, _Anglais bête_." France groaned, already getting impatient.

As much as it irritated England being called an idiot, he had to resist the urge to squeeze France's neck, or else, he would never know what his great idea was.

After being brought the glass, France took quite a lot of time before tasting it: shaking the glass, smelling the contents, and examining it against the light. Grinning because of England's already pissed face he finally tasted a sip, just to spit everything over the carpet.

"_C'est répugnant!_ What's this, sewer water?"

England just smirked, looking amused. "Oh, that? _French_ wine. It happens to be from the same bottle you gave to me so _generously_ for my birthday. I'm surprised, though, that you say it's... _répugnant_," England cited, using a terrible French accent. "I wouldn't expect you giving me a cheap wine of poor quality. That would speak terribly of your so called good taste!"

France frowned, feeling himself trapped. But his face quickly lighted up again as he quirked his lips.

"I'm glad you acknowledge my exquisite taste. Now then, I do recall in fact giving you this delicate wine bottle. That was quite brilliant of me, as it would have been awful to have let go to waste a bottle of perfectly good wine. All I did was to give you a wine that fit you and your, uh... unique sense of taste. _Oh, d'accord_!" France rushed to add, as he saw how England was already clenching his fits and teeth while mentally counting to ten. "It was obvious you wouldn't have some decent wine in this place. Now then, I suppose America's normally the one to do the move on you. Right?"

"Yes... " England mumbled, slurring the words. But France didn't fail to notice the other averting his eyes and blushing, which made his smirk bigger.

"Ah, I see... that was to be expected. A really good lad, don't you think so? He was such an eager and diligent apprentice back in the day... ok, ok!" France stopped as England was already huffing; his eyes showing that he seemed ready to murder him. "Now then, where was I? Right; you have made the terrible mistake of constantly waiting for him to make the move. The poor boy must currently be a bundle of nerves, his young and over-energized hormones suffering because of such a harsh repression. And... that's when you enter the scene, _mon ami_! Use your tricks to seduce him. In a few minutes, you'll have him begging for more!"

England's eyes went wide with realization. But he wasn't convinced yet. "Sounds fine, but... wait a minute. What 'tricks' are you talking about?"

"Come on, you know you're a way more kinky and horny man than I could ever be. Now—wait! _Merci._ You just have to make sure to give your best for a splendid performance. It makes me jealous, just thinking about it!"

"...and, what do you suggest?" England arched an eyebrow. He was starting to dislike the way this sounded.

"I thought you would know of something! Maybe going all 'British Empire' on his pants? Maybe bringing Captain Kirkland back to life? Or...," he threw a wink while making his voice deeper, "maybe I can take care of this problem for you. I would certainly not mind at all...!"

France couldn't finish his sentence, since the cushion he had been trying to avoid for a while finally met his face.

"Oh, bugger off. I'm going to do this in my own way," England huffed. "I'm going to give such a spectacle, that I'd be really surprised if that poor attempt of a gentleman can keep his composure after my performance."

"That's the spirit, _mon cher_!" France replied, cheerful but also slightly wary. England was now smirking in an almost scary way, and France couldn't help but feel worried. Now that he had managed to unleash the closet pervert hidden inside England, who knew what could happen?

That, he wouldn't know. As tempting as it sounded to see England in a seductive mode, for once, France didn't feel comfortable seeing it. He had a bad feeling about all of this but it was too late for him to say something.

* * *

After several weeks, America was finally going to spend a night at England's place. He called England in a rush to let him know (did he? He couldn't even remember), but anyways, it didn't really matter. He was going to spend a single night in there; the next day, he was leaving early heading to France, Germany, and some other countries he couldn't even remember. It was a good thing that he always brought an agenda with him (since he had long ago disposed of that annoying laptop).

He arrived earlier than usual, so he wasn't surprised to find nobody at home. Still, the house was unnaturally dark; not even the fairies were around, and the silence was starting to make him feel uneasy.

Finally, he turned on the lights.

Not in a million years could have he be prepared to see what he was seeing at that moment.

England was spread out on the couch, wearing that skimpy butler costume of his, leaving too little for the imagination. He looked deadly serious, but after seeing America's expression he smirked, feeling very pleased with himself. However, after noticing that America was completely unresponsive, he started to get impatient. England stood up, just when America was doing a gesture to leave the living room.

"And where, exactly, are you going, cowboy?" England purred, grabbing America by his tie to bring him closer. England's rough tone had an unmistakable pirate-like sound to it, but he had made sure to keep a thick British accent as well. One that he knew it could make America go head over heels for him. "The party hasn't even started yet..."

"N-nice to see you, England." America stammered. "J-just what are you doing dressed like this? You're going to catch a cold..."

"Hmmm, I figured you would want to have some fun after such a long journey," England replied, pressing America's body against the wall. "So then I thought you would want...to do...something...interesting."

England marked each one of his words with a stroke to America's groin, and America was already squirming so hard that England felt things were going the good way. At this point, England's voice and eyes were darkened with such lust that in a normal situation America would already be all over England, kissing him while taking off his own clothes.

But something was off. Instead of relaxing, America was getting more and more tense. He was furrowing his eyebrows, and if England didn't know him any better, he would say that America looked rather scared.

And then, England realized it. He had forgotten that the current America was too much of a gentleman for his own good.

He released America and stepped back. As soon as America caught his breath again he rushed to take his own vest, using it to cover England's almost naked body. Visibly more relaxed, America let out a sigh. "Just what were you thinking, England? Okay, I don't think I want to know it, but—it's mid-winter, you can't go around dressed like that. "

England just couldn't believe his ears. Was America really asking for an _explanation_? "Are you daft? I wanted to have sex with you, if you haven't realized it. Since when do you need an excuse for doing this?"

"Okay, England," America sighed, scratching his neck. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to prepare a report for tomorrow. And then, I'm leaving early tomorrow for my next trip. Can we save this for another time? I'm going to make up for this, I promise..."

Now England felt himself falling into despair. His eyes couldn't hide his disappointment. "Another time? That's what you've been saying every single bloody night you've come to my place!"

America frowned. "Come on, England. You know this is important. It's my responsibility as a nation, remember? Weren't you the one who used to say that I needed to take my job more seriously? That I needed to behave as a grown-up man?"

"And what about me?" England's pained eyes grew wide, already burning with imminent tears. "You've barely touched me in weeks! You say you love me, but rather, it looks like you don't even want me anymore! If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you already found someone else in your many journeys!"

"Don't be unfair, England." America replied with a harsh voice. "I believe I've proved to you on countless times how I feel about you. I've been polite, well-mannered, respectful... the gentleman you always wished for me to be. And now you come with this? I just can't believe it."

England scowled, fighting to contain his tears. "Fine, America. Play the polite, diplomatic man... I don't care. Just don't come to me looking for affection, mister Gentleman. If you're going to treat me in such a bloody impersonal way, then I guess I'll have to give you the same treatment. Now if you'll excuse me..."

England turned and headed upstairs. America didn't even try to stop him; instead, he seemed frozen in place, his hand tentatively trying to reach England.

"England...you realize you're overreacting, do you?" America finally managed to speak with a wary voice. For the first time in weeks his face was showing something other than calm, and there was worry darkening his eyes. "I'm sure you're as tired as I am, this is just a momentary thing. Can't we discuss this with a cup of tea?"

_A cup of tea._ Of all the things America had said that night, it was this that made England feel he was pursuing a lost cause. Already on the stairs, he did an effort to ignore his clenched heart and turned his head to spit some last words.

"If you need something from me, call my office; I'm sure my secretary can make an appointment for you. Have a nice day, _Mr. Jones._" And with these words dripping in venom he finally left, leaving behind an astonished and unresponsive America.

America stood silent, eyes fixed on the floor. While he couldn't help but feel pissed with England, he knew England was saying the truth. He hadn't been at home; he hadn't been with England_ at all_. And even though he tried to convince himself that he did everything to make England feel proud of him, he couldn't ignore that voice telling him that he forgot an important part. Maybe, if he hadn't ignored that feeling of unease he had felt everytime he was travelling around or when he stayed working until late...

But it was too late to regret it. Sitting on the couch —_their_ couch, he had to remind himself— he struggled trying to figure out just what had gone wrong. And upstairs, curled on his bed —_their_ bed, in fact—, England was letting out the tears he had been containing through quiet but anguished sobs.

Night fell peacefully over the United Kingdom, but in a small home, two heartbroken nations had anything but peace. And watching over them, a group of fairies shook their heads, a sad and worried expression written on their faces.

* * *

**_Notes: _**If you didn't understand a thing from what France said, that was exactly his intention; to use French to annoy England. Sadly, to France's misfortune, England does understand quite a few words in French, but long sentences should still be able to confuse him. Anyways, here's a short glossary:_  
_

_Pourrais-tu m'apporter un verre de vin_?: Could you bring me a glass of wine?

_Anglais bête_: idiot Englishman

_répugnant_: disgusting


End file.
